


Every Atom of Your Flesh

by Shiverslightly



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Victorian, Ben Wa Balls, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub, F/F, Fem Kurosheith, Fem Sheith, Genderswap, Kuron & Shiro (Voltron) are Twins, Leather, POV Kuron (Volton), Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Secret Relationship, Smut, Strap-Ons, Tea Parties, Threesome - F/F/F, Voyeurism, don't come here looking for historical accuracies, mentions of desired incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-23
Updated: 2020-09-23
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:13:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26599603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shiverslightly/pseuds/Shiverslightly
Summary: Carefully, and with heart in her throat, Kuron slides open the look through and is arrested with a sight so indecent a woman of less stalwart would surely collapse.Keith is propped over the back of the settee, its fine embroidered pattern buckling under the weight of Shiro braced above her, the curve of her backside snug against Shiro’s front. But that’s not the most shocking aspect. No, it’s where Shiro’s hands have disappeared to.
Relationships: Keith/Kuron/Shiro (Voltron), Keith/Shiro (Voltron)
Comments: 18
Kudos: 73
Collections: Femsheith Exchange 2020





	Every Atom of Your Flesh

**Author's Note:**

  * For [crypticarus (padawin)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/padawin/gifts).



> This is for [Icarus](https://twitter.com/crypticarus_sk) as part of the [Femsheith Exchange](https://twitter.com/femsheiths) :)
> 
> Me to myself before this event: I think I’m getting tired of writing smut  
> Also me: Reads Icarus’ prompts; sees words like kurosheith, size difference, leather, _Victorian_  
>  Me: Oh fu—
> 
> Thank you for all of your truly delicious wants and prompts. This might be my favourite thing I’ve ever written just for the sheer indulgence alone. I hope it hits at least a few of the things you were hoping for <3

It was a fact well known that the Shirogane sisters of Yorkshire would never marry. As the sole heirs of their family estate, Takashi and Kuronushi were not currently, nor would they ever be, in need of something as troublesome as a husband. Sitting in the sunroom that overlooks the Eastern gardens, it is a fact that Kuron is most grateful for.

She lounges at the table during afternoon tea and watches a Lord Morvok engage in a fruitless endeavour — attempting to win favour with the fair Miss Kogane. Kuron knows it to be so as she has, on more than one occasion, discussed with Miss Kogane at length both the madness and absurdity of women desiring such attentions and both had verily agreed. At present, Miss Kogane was looking rather annoyed and uncomfortable, shifting restlessly in her seat as the Lord prattled on about all the things a proper woman ought to be.

“There’s a luxury to having one's own agency, to be sure, but the life of a spinster must be terribly lonely.”

“I would pay attention to the company you find yourself in before making such statements,” Kuron’s sister Takashi, affectionately known as Shiro, replies. Her sweeping afternoon gown protrudes from the table with billowy skirts of ivory and gold. As a rather large woman, the flounce in the arms of her dress give Shiro the illusion of shoulders broad enough to be that of a man’s, lending to her strong and fierce physiognomy. “Everyone would benefit from the _’luxury,’_ as you call it, of agency.”

She looks over at Kuron and holds her gaze. In a poorly veiled attempt to sway them from their obstinate desire for singledom, their grandmother, the Matriarch of the family, frequently forced the sisters to hold these social engagements, but with specimens such as Lord Morvok her design was doomed for failure. Kuron promptly snorts into her tea, thinly disguising it for a cough.

“Forgive me, I did not mean offense,” the Lord bows his head, as insincere in tone as gesture. “I only meant to engage Miss Kogane in her opinion of the matter.”

Across the way, Keith places her teacup on the table, her dark and uniquely coloured eyes glinting as they land on the man Kuron can see she holds no affection for. “If you’re asking me what I think of my oldest and dearest friends, I would have to say that I am surprised. You do not strike me as the type of man who cares much for the opinion of women. An unmarried one even less so.”

Lord Morvok eyes her. “You wound me, Miss Kogane,” he says carefully. “I find a woman’s opinion perfectly tolerable. Especially if they are endeavouring to… elevate their status.”

“If marriage, or the desire to do so, is the only way to improve one's status,” Keith says, clearly fighting to hide her disdain, “I’m afraid I am not interested. Perhaps you would have better luck with the Taujeer family. With six daughters I hear they are getting rather desperate.”

Kuron has to duck behind her hand fan to conceal her laughter. Beside Keith, Shiro openly grins as the Lord splutters and rises from his seat in indignation. Keith herself, gives him a slightly mocking, guileless look. Her sharp tongue still mostly unknown to Yorkshire. When the Lord makes his excuses and leaves, Kuron sighs in relief, pleased to know that there's one less pompous peacock left at this function. She watches his back and just catches the tail end of a low hiss as Keith leans back against her seat.

Upon closer inspection, Keith does not appear to be well at all. Kuron can see the skin above her low collared dress to be flushed in red. It would almost blend with the shade of her bodice if not for the sheen of sweat that also covers her neckline.

“Keith?” Kuron asks. “Are you feeling alright?”

“Yes, Keith,” chimes Shiro. “Your time in the garden has left you quite flushed.”

There’s something in the way Shiro says it. A playful note that seems out of place in the context. Keith stares at Shiro for a beat too long before replying. “I am fine. Thank you both for your concern.” Her eyes seem to narrow when Shiro’s lips twitch.

Keith had been staying with the Shirogane’s for over a month. As a close family friend since the time they were children, her open invitation to Lyona Hall had no expiration. Kuron and Shiro were uncommonly close, as twins Kuron supposes it’s to be expected, but if anyone were to rival her in sisterly bonds it would be Keith. Lately the pair of them had been sneaking off together in increasing frequency, a habit that until now Kuron had given no thought to. Shiro leans closer to Keith and though the tablecloth covers them, something must pass for Keith jerks minutely and stifles a noise like a bitten off cry.

Her countenance only deteriorates as the day wears on. Kuron would blame it on the amount of suitors that approach her, but it seems to be more than that for she almost doubles over the first time she takes a turn about the room. Her initial step causing her to whine in her throat and instantly freeze. Stuck at the piano forte, Kuron is unable to do much of anything, but Shiro rushes to her side. 

The sunroom is large, and the tea table removed far enough away as to escape the notice of the rest of their guests. Still, not wanting to draw attention, Keith straightens and grasps the ornate golden inlay of her chair back with delicate fingers, once again stammering to Shiro that she is fine. After some insistence, she accepts Shiro’s arm and Kuron does not have time to notice such things as the way Keith walks with gait slightly askew.

Another hour later, however, and it becomes glaringly apparent that Keith is not fine at all. There’s hair about her face that sticks to her temples in condensation and her lips begin to look angry and swollen as though they’ve been chewed on mercilessly. Even Mr McClain, who has barely taken his eyes off of Miss Alforson, takes notice.

“Miss Kogane, are you well? I dare say you are looking affright.”

They are speaking with a trio from Sheffield. Acquaintances of the Shirogane’s whom also have an open invitation to Lyona. Mr McClain can be rough about the edges though Kuron takes secret delight in hearing the banter between himself and Keith. What began as insufferable bickering quickly morphed into something closer to sibling rivalry as the two had occasion to interact, or at the very least, reluctant mutual acceptance. Now they got on rather well, though neither one would openly admit it.

“Mr McClain,” their companion, the sweet Mr Garret, interjects. “The lady does not appear frightful.”

Adjusting her glasses, the ever so petite Miss Holt peers at Keith. “No, I believe he is correct. You are looking quite… over strained.”

Keith, who until now had ignored Kuron’s pleas for her to retire, seems to hang her head. The observations of their party finally sinking in Kuron hopes. “Yes,” she sighs. “I think perhaps you may be right.”

Her voice is a breathy thing. Kuron offers to have her escorted up to her rooms when Shiro offers to do it herself. “Do not trouble Mrs Beezer, dear Kuron. I shall escort her myself.”

And with that, Shiro guides Keith from the tearoom, a hand on the small of Keith’s back, the afternoon sun leaving trails of shadow behind them. As the remaining hostess, Kuron should of course remain with their guests, but something about Keith’s demeanour does not sit well. Making an excuse that she wishes to see Keith well; she bids Mrs Beezer to look after her guests' comfort.

“I’ll be but a moment,” she assures them, then hurries after the pair who have now disappeared from the hall.

In her haste to leave, Shiro had given her the distinct impression that she wished to escort Keith alone and Kuron could not help but feel that something was afoot. Her footsteps echo inside the stone corridor. Portraits of their lineage and marble busts lining the walls. Kuron finds them at the top of the grand staircase, but rather than make herself known, she pauses just behind the edge of a corner. Watching as Keith stumbles on the last of the steps and falls into Shiro’s side. With an urgent grasp of Shiro’s dress sleeves, Keith pushes her face into Shiro’s chest most alarmingly.

 _“Shiro,”_ Keith bemoans and shudders against her.

Standing two heads taller, Shiro rests a hand at the base of Keith’s neck, the breadth of it spanning almost full around. She has to bend in order to speak near Keith’s ear. “Hush pet,” she says. “We’re almost there.” 

“I want them out _now_ ,” Keith whines and misses the gleam that Kuron sees in her sister's eye.

Grinning rather wicked, Shiro gently grabs Keith’s chin with the fingers of her prosthetic and tilts so they must meet each other's gaze. “Are you reneging on our wager then?”

Kuron has never seen Shiro act this way. Proprietary in how she handles Keith and sliding a hand almost rapaciously down the length of her spine to pull them flush together. Impish intent in every line of her solid form. 

Keith holds her gaze but doesn’t speak. Defiant or unwilling yet to answer.

It causes Shiro to grin wider. “Come then,” she says and pulls Keith towards her rooms.

Afraid to be caught spying, Kuron waits until the pair are out of sight and darts towards the back stairs, taking the servants passage two at a time though the volume of her petticoats make for slower work than she would like. They’ve situated Keith in a wing of her own, a lavish suite with bedchamber, dressing room, morning room and parlour. It’s the servant’s quarters she dashes to. A storage room off the side where they collect dishes from the adjoined parlour. She enters as stealthy as possible and presses her ear to the door. Sure enough, the voices behind are muffled but of a high enough cadence to be that of Keith and Shiro. Carefully, and with heart in her throat, she slides open the look through and is arrested with a sight so indecent a woman of less stalwart would surely collapse.

Keith is propped over the back of the settee, its fine embroidered pattern buckling under the weight of Shiro braced above her, the curve of her backside snug against Shiro’s front. But that’s not the most shocking aspect. No, it’s where Shiro’s hands have disappeared to.

She pushes at the layers of Keith’s smart dress. Ruffled fabric, petticoats and chemise all rucking up as she hoists them above Keith’s tiny waist. She ignores the impatient grumbling of Keith beneath her and runs her hands slow and reverentially over the last layer of Keith’s drawers. Pulling them down with a practiced ease to Keith’s urgent, _“hurry.”_

“Oh love,” Shiro breathes as she gets a good look, “you’ve made such a mess.”

And truly she has. Kuron’s eyes widening when she catches a glimpse of the cloth lying sodden at Keith’s feet. Shiro swipes her fingers up Keith’s inner thighs, both of them shining in clear, viscous fluid. “I do not recall giving permission to finish.”

“I would never,” Keith breathes, direly pushing into Shiro’s touch.

Put on display like this, Kuron can see everything. Her eyes glued to the flushed and engorged petals of Keith’s private flower. It’s the first she’s seen of a woman like this and Kuron is not as opposed as she ought to be. Shiro cups her sex with the whole of her hand and Keith cries out even whilst arching back beautifully.

“All of this from a bit of teasing?” Shiro purrs, wondering. Grinding her palm over Keith’s tight entrance. “My sweet little tart.”

Keith whines in her throat. “Shiro.”

“You like that don’t you? Being so loose and easy for me.”

Keith whimpers but otherwise bites her tongue. Out of everything thus far, this is what Kuron finds most shocking. How pliant and docile Keith becomes under Shiro’s dominance. Usually she’s a force to be reckoned with, but here she is more of a plaything.

“Perhaps I should give you what you desire,” Shiro says, grabbing and clawing at Keith’s bottom, “so you don’t go looking elsewhere.”

And then her fingers are diving into a heat that Kuron can only imagine. Keith makes a truly vulgar noise, like a moan and a cry all at once. Raising her hand to her mouth, Keith smothers her lips in a vain attempt to control her volume and Kuron has to do the same. Wet and obscenely depraved sounds issuing out from the room. 

Shiro nips at her ear and coos, “Such a wanton creature.” At the same time, she twists her wrist and plunges forward. “What am I to do with you?” 

_“Nngh, Shiro!”_

As Shiro strokes, the flush of Keith’s skin extends from her heat to the elegant crease of her knees. Having always found Keith a sight to behold, the additional colour to her opulent skin is a silent revelation. She spreads her toned and shapely legs. With that — along with the curve of her neck stretched out in pleasure and the slick that coats Shiro’s fast moving fingers — Keith is a vision dipped fully in sin.

“Out,” Keith pants, adding when Shiro seems to ignore her, _“Mistress, please.”_

The sharp grin of Kuron’s sister drips in triumph. “So I win the bet?” she confirms. “You’ll wear an outfit of my choosing?”

Covetously holding Keith to her, Shiro fingers along the lace of Keith’s bodice, plucking at the bow around her waist. She must do something with the fingers inside for Keith keens and glares over her shoulder.

“Yes, whatever you wish, just _please.”_

The whole of Shiro’s hand twists suddenly and Keith’s pitch turns thready. Pulling back, Shiro places her hand beneath Keith’s winking cunt and warns, “You are not allowed to come yet.”

Keith muffles a response into the settee, dropping her head and all at once appearing to bear down. Her body shakes and Kuron cranes further from her hiding place for a chance to see their naughty misdeeds. Just in time to glimpse a bright, smooth surface developing at Keith’s entrance, protruding from _inside her body._ Kuron stares enthralled, watching as what becomes a metal ball pushes its way through her glistening channel, stretching her little hole around it. Keith whines mightily, pushing until the width pops free in a glob of slick and the heavy ball clinks into Shiro’s prosthetic. Sweet agony transforms Keith’s face. Sweat dripping lightly off her low brow.

“That’s it,” Shiro praises, “good girl.” She presses a finger at the base of Keith’s cunt, tugging it open. “One more to go.”

For Kuron, it’s like looking directly at the sun. Entrancing and blinding at once. A second ball starts to push free, somehow looking bigger and heavier than the first. Keith grits her teeth and mewls like a wounded animal. She’s never looked more beautiful than now. By the time Kuron pulls her eyes away, Keith has discharged the second ball.

“Now,” Keith gasps, her aspect trembling. Her altar of Venus yawning open. “Fill me.”

“Sweet, sweet pet,” Shiro murmurs. Inserting three fingers but only to tease. “You don’t want to see what I’ve gotten you?”

Whimpering into her hand, Keith sways her hips seductive and fetching, catching her lip in the pulp of her teeth. The act of a woman who knows what she's doing. Shiro relinquishes Keith from her hold, straightening to rise from her crouched position.

“I expect you to be bare and kneeling by the time I return. Is that understood?”

The pout on Keith’s face would fell lesser a woman but Keith’s obedience is astounding and Kuron mourns the loss of her gaping sex when she lets her skirts drop down. “Yes Mistress,” she whispers. “Please hurry.”

Shiro steps into her space, Keith left having to crane her neck. “I shall return when I return. You would do right to remember your place, my love.”

Instantly Keith bows her head. “Mistress, forgive me.”

With a sigh Shiro kisses the top of Keith’s head. It’s ludicrously tender given the moment before. She lingers there, inhaling deeply, “And,” she adds, “let down your hair.”

And then Shiro is gone, left in a rustle of finery and the door locked shut behind her.

The silence is a douse of frigid water that leaves Kuron reeling within its wake. Logically, she should be disgusted by what she’s borne witness to, outraged even. She should be running to their grandmother to denounce her sister and long-standing companion. Praying for their souls and anyone else they may have corrupted. A proper lady would do so. And yet…

And yet all thoughts of should and proper flit from her mind the moment Keith starts to undress.

An afternoon gown is no easy task, the stunning intricacies of Keith’s even less. Layers of lace and silk drape from her shoulders, her bosoms nearly tumbling out from their tussle on top of the settee. There’s a poignant moment of longing, where Kuron wishes dearly she could but help, but watching Keith is an exquisite torture. The flutter of her hands erotic. The heaving of her breath swelling. Kuron wants it so badly she almost tastes it when Keith bares herself. With dress removed and petticoats fallen and the sheerness of her chemise leaving nothing to the imagination, Kuron sees the goddess divine.

For Keith is running hands about her breasts. Pinching a dark budded nipple and gasping as she shudders. Her legs squeeze together. Her moan heavenly wanton. Shiro had given her no leave to do this and Kuron suspects such touches would be unwanted. Keith must think so too, if the way she presses her lips and stays her hands are any indication. Dutifully, Keith removes her chemise and gently places each piece of dressing across the settee. Creamy, tantalizing, gorgeous skin on full display.

The parlour is grand and sumptuous. Tapestries hang from the ceiling to floor in blues and greens and golds. They lie beside windows with stunning views of the English countryside and accent the finest furnishings their family’s fortune could afford and still it pales in comparison to the sight of Keith lowering to her knees in front of the chaise.

Now that the strange silver balls are out, her high flushed colour begins to ebb. Her short, jerking movements calmed as she kneels. Kuron learns why Shiro requested her hair be let down when Keith does so. An ebony crown of short curling bangs and longer waves cascading down her back. She folds her hands into her lap and bows her head and waits.

Kuron’s laboured breathing fills the air. Her view of Keith a wondrous thing. She’s not sure how long she waits there, stuck herself on gentle curves and the rise and fall of perky breasts. Attraction must be what Kuron is feeling but it’s all so new and titillating. All those times she’d watched Keith at dinner or out in the garden. Those moments at night when she’d close her eyes and see Keith’s smile in patches of light. It falls into place in the space of her yearning and Kuron wonders how long it is that she’s wanted her.

Too long, she surmises. Much too long.

She’s so lost in her musings she does not hear the key until it’s turning the lock and Shiro enters the parlour anew. Kuron jumps in surprise and knocks straight into linens that line the wall. Heart pounding behind her ribs, she quickly ducks and prays with fervency she won’t be discovered.

From inside the room, Shiro sucks in a breath and Kuron feels like this must be it but then she breathes, “Look at you.”

The sound of rustling and something being set on the floor is enough to overcome Kuron’s fear of discovery and cautiously she peeks the tiniest bit over the ledge, thankful the ridiculous bonnet she’s usually forced to wear is not on her person. Shiro’s snow white hair comes into view first and then her shoulders. Arms like steel about her torso, flexing as she stops herself from reaching out. An outsider might find her dispassionate, standing there before Keith unmoving, but Kuron can see how she holds herself back. Spies the iris of her eyes gone black. Keith peers at her in capitulation and Kuron envies her sister with force.

A box lies before Keith’s knees. Wooden with carvings of exquisite detail, silver hardware, and immeasurable skill. The box itself must have cost a small fortune, it’s decadence perhaps a hint of what it holds hidden. Keith doesn’t dare place her hands on the box, looking up instead with arms still sweetly in her lap. Up and up and up she looks as Shiro towers well above her.

“Go on,” Shiro instructs, hushed and in barely concealed avidity, “open it.”

 _Yes, open it,_ Kuron urges in her mind, willing Keith into action. The woman on her knees pauses though, touching the wood with marvel on her perfect face. The way she looks one would think the box were the gift and the suspense nearly vaults Kuron from her hiding place.

Finally, Keith fingers at the hinges, snapping them open and lifting the lid with slow deliberateness. Propped open it thoroughly hides the contents, but Keith’s eyes go wide, and she lifts them in question. Shiro’s face gives nothing away, fully clothed in her afternoon finery whilst a peach of delectable pedigree kneels before her, curiosity as bare as her body. Keith reaches in and the faintest jingle finds Kuron’s straining ears.

“I do not understand,” Keith whispers.

“You’ll have to take it out, love.”

And when she does, Kuron is as confused as Keith.

It’s nothing more than straps and buckles. Kuron had been expecting an extravagant piece of fine jewellery, or at the very least French lingerie, but this looks better suited for their mare, Midnight. With leather straps curried to the darkest of black and affixing to four brass rings down the middle, it shines in the sun that trickles through the windows and Kuron hasn’t the faintest idea what it is.

“What is it?” Keith asks, echoing Kuron’s thoughts.

Shiro smiles sharply, “Will you let me show you?” She extends her hand, helping Keith rise to her feet and takes the contraption from fine boned fingers. “Turn for me.”

Keith does as bid and turns so her back is facing Shiro, giving Kuron a front row view. She sees the wiry hair between Keith’s legs. The bounce of her breasts as she moves. Hands that would span the entirety of Keith’s bottom press a strap to the hollow of her throat, wrapping leather full around it. Keith shivers with the contact and buckles creak as Shiro secures it.

It’s a collar, Kuron realizes, thicker than the other straps attached so that it engulfs most of the column of Keith’s long neck. One of those brass rings is fixed in the center with a length of strap and the other rings running down towards her navel. Each ring with a belt attached on both sides. Shiro is ever so gentle as she dresses Keith, buckling a strap around the top of Keith’s breasts and a third below. Squishing them slightly while highlighting their symmetric roundness. The leather groans as Shiro tightens the belts around Keith’s body, enough to know they’re stretched and flush. In fact, it looks as though this piece were made for Keith alone.

The longer Shiro works the darker the shade of Keith’s face becomes, though not for lack of oxygen. She bites at her lip as she’d done at tea, squeezing her thighs when Shiro fixes the final belt around the smallest part of Keith’s trim waist. It’s nothing Kuron’s ever seen before. A harness like one would use for horses, yet clearly meant for Keith’s fine stature. 

Shiro turns her around and loses her breath to look upon her. “Exquisite,” she simply breathes.

Her fingers trace the length of the harness, down the center of Keith’s body, across her chest, her breasts, her waist. She hooks them into the ring at Keith’s sternum and yanks her bodily, causing Keith to crash into her and devours. Lips seeking lips in a vicious press that leaves Keith breathless and moaning like a harlot. It’s the first that Kuron’s seen them kiss, a warring clash of teeth and tongues and passion overflowing. Heat rises quick within Kuron’s stomach. Her nether regions beginning to moisten. 

Keith wraps herself around Shiro’s strong body, pawing at the fastenings of Shiro’s dress. “Shiro,” she murmurs and Shiro slides fingers back into Keith’s leaking hole. A bleat of shock and wishes fulfilled tearing from her gasping mouth. 

Her leg raises to give Shiro room, her foot slipping around Shiro’s dress. Drawing back, Shiro takes her fingers with her, sucking lungsful of air as she goes. “Undress me,” she says.

Keith couldn’t move faster.

For as methodical as she’d undressed herself, this is frantic and without finesse. It’s clawing hands and grasping fingers and Shiro laughs and reaches out to Keith who whines when Shiro pins her arms. Only to help though. Probably afraid Keith will rip her ribbons in her haste to rid Shiro of them.

Then Shiro is naked as god created, curvaceously smooth and rounded with muscles. Sculpted unfairly spectacular. Even Kuron can see that from where she hides, a pang of envy setting off in her chest, for though they are twins she does not look like _that_. Shiro grabs Keith by her harness, pulls her in and licks into her open mouth. Both hands diving down to her active behind and hoisting her into the air and against her. Keith doesn’t even falter, legs wrapping and hips rolling. Whining into Shiro's mouth when she bites the swell of her plush bottom lip.

“Mistress,” Keith moans, fisting her hand into Shiro’s fair hair. “Take me.”

The point of Shiro’s canines flash when she grins, her pointer finger tugging on the ring at the base of Keith’s collar. “Have you forgotten your manners?”

Keith’s eyelids flutter closed. _“Please.”_

The divots of Shiro’s thighs bulge, her backside firm and shapely as she walks Keith over and settles them onto the chaise. Shiro sitting at the end and Keith trussed like a bird perched dainty in her lap. Her whole body covers Keith, her hands grasping at the straps on Keith’s back. Legs like vices around Shiro’s waist, Keith starts to grind wet and messy, a shameful chorus of copulation rising up between them.

“Do you like your gift?” Shiro asks to a dark and claiming mark she leaves at Keith’s shoulder. Pinching at nipples trapped between leather. The belts and buckles squealing as they writhe.

“Yes,” Keith moans, seeking that friction. “It feels like — _ahh_ — it feels like I’m your property.”

Shiro’s answer is dangerous and absolute. “That’s because you are, pet.”

Shuddering against her, Keith’s hips roll with precision. Undulating her sex in fluid motions that set Kuron’s loins ablaze. Shiro bites her way across Keith’s chest, ducking to lick at a nipple and suck its entirety into her mouth. The other she rolls between fingers, testing which actions draw the most cries, but Keith appears to adore them all.

“Uhn,” Keith whines when Shiro twists at her merciless.

“I had something made for me as well,” Shiro says to the strap between Keith’s breasts, licking at the perspiration forming beneath it. “Should I show it to you?”

Keith doesn’t answer, too busy is she grinding into Shiro’s lap and arching up into her mouth. Her head lolls and eyes shut but they pinch together as though what she has is not quite enough. Another whine escapes her throat when Shiro travels the length of leather, cupping Keith’s cheek and nipping her ear, “Be a good pet and fetch it for me.”

Looking as though there’s nothing she’d like less, Keith frowns but does not release her grip from about Shiro’s shoulders, forcing Shiro to pull on Keith’s collar until she chokes. Darkly Shiro murmurs, “That was an order.”

A second box lies forgotten at the foot of the chaise, smaller than the first but no less ornate. Keith barely needs to move from her perch to bend and retrieve it and Shiro takes that time to caress Keith’s lovely backside. Kneading at her fleshy mounds and teasingly dipping her fingers towards her honey from behind. Fine tremors run through Keith’s body and she quite possibly takes longer than needed, though Kuron can hardly blame her.

Presenting the box, Keith holds it to Shiro whose hands are too full to take.

“Open it,” Shiro says, those questing fingers inching their way back to Keith’s slick, empty cunt. Prying her open and running the length of spreading folds.

When Keith whines, Shiro growls and Keith has to swallow to calm herself, clearly fighting the urge just to bear down and ride. Shaking inner thighs and fast, rapid breaths.

“Go on,” Shiro grins, knowing full well how she torments.

This time, Kuron has the perfect view as the delicate box opens. Dark rosewood cracking open and something long and shining white laid upon straps like the ones round Keith’s body. Caressing the length of the ivory rod, Keith licks swollen lips and shudders.

Shiro brushes her lips against Keith’s ear. “Remember that?”

By the look in Keith’s eyes she certainly does. So covetous are they that they’re swallowed in coal. With the straps of her harness and herself laid bare she looks like she’s spawned from one of the damned. A ravishing creature of voracious appetite. The rod she now holds not a rod at all but slightly curved with a flared mushroom head and carved from bone or ivory. It’s a phallus, Kuron realizes with a start. Longer and thicker than she thought they could get but then she’s not seen one up close. Keith looks at Shiro with hunger and flames.

Shiro, who strokes her fingers between Keith’s legs and thumbs at her red and swelling button. “What else is there?”

The leather straps left in the box are much the same as Keith’s, polished black and adorned with rings, though much less to it. When held up for inspection it appears to be some sort of garter, with loops to go round one's legs and a larger ring found in the middle. Keith whimpers when she sees it, from Shiro’s attentions or darker thoughts Kuron’s not privy to know. But Shiro is gently pushing Keith off her to stand, taking both the disembodied cock and straps and holding Keith’s gaze with intensity as she slides it through the largest ring.

She’s going to wear it. That’s Kuron’s first thought a moment before Shiro slides her feet through the loops and pulls the whole thing up. Buckling the belt around her waist, she looks like a man with penis erect. Instantly Keith reaches out, face alight with fevered craving and grasping the cock with the whole of her hand. 

Shiro issues a challenge. “Think you can take it?” And must not expect Keith to open her mouth for she groans so foul and pulls Keith’s hair away from her face to watch as she slides the phallus between her lips.

Keith grabs Shiro’s thighs to unhinge her jaw and Kuron just about faints on the spot. So hot is it in her storage room and beneath her skirts. The throb of her sex aflame as she watches Keith choke and swallow. She slobers all over that large ivory cock, then throws herself back to spread her legs the width of the chaise.

“Oh no,” Shiro says, hauling Keith up by the centre of her harness alone. Lifting until she’s on her knees with an undignified squawk and Shiro’s wet phallus smearing her belly. “A whore like you has to work for it.”

Sitting down beside her, Shiro pats her knees and Keith scrambles so fast she’s a blur of action. Hard thighs flexing as she braces above and grasps the base of the ivory penis. Beneath her, Shiro leans back on her elbows, reclining with a watchful eye that almost looks as bright as Kuron’s. If Keith is bothered by the lack of assistance, she doesn’t show it. She readies herself, lowers and sinks, and utters a word so crass it’s best left unmentioned.

But oh, how lovely she is. Pale spotted and head thrown back. Moaning filth and working hips. Her channel takes it all so well, the hard cock held aloft by Shiro’s garter whilst her own harness twists with her rolling torso. Her pace isn’t quick but a slow-moving thing. Arms held at her back and pressing into Shiro’s thighs as she puts herself up on exhibit. Kuron’s transfixed. Parched as a woman trapped in the desert.

Her bosoms sway in hypnotic circles, Shiro’s do as well. Shiro’s fists clench the chair as she looks upon her primped up pet. “There’s a girl,” she sweetly encourages. “Show me how you like it.”

It’s then that Keith really starts to move. Her causal sway turned into a bounce that ratchets up higher and higher. The legs of the chaise starting to drag.

With every drop Keith heaves a breath, broken up and rasping. She leans forward and leverages her cunt into smooth, fluid pistons. White ivory pounding sloppy. Kuron smells the thick of her scent from here, it’s treacled richness harshly fragrant. She wonders how it would taste on her tongue. Imagines scooping her fingers into Keith’s split hole and feasting. Shiro grips at her hips and, when Keith’s pace starts to falter, bucks up into her with dizzying force. When Keith cries out, she does it harder. Demanding that Keith take it all.

Shiro’s forearm flexes tightly, the metal prosthetic of the other bruising. She’s controlled and powerful. In charge and commanding. Everything about her bathed in golden, glistening sweat. Kuron starts to feel torn asunder just to look at her. Stuck between admiration and something more.

Keith, on the other hand, sounds as though she’s being torn for real. Releasing a great cacophony of sounds, a loud caterwauling that can only come from the deepest of pleasures. Mighty with each strapping Shiro pounds into her. Shiro pulls on her choker to no avail. Finally resorting to plunging her fingers down Keith’s open mouth to stop her lover from crying out.

“Quiet pet,” Shiro breathes. Harsh pants between harsher thrusts. “Any louder and you’ll alert the guests to our doings.”

Keith’s answering groan is no less hushed. Shiro quirks an eyebrow. “Unless you want that I should share you?”

It looks as though Keith tries to swallow around thick fingers. Her dainty throat working though spit dribbles free.

Shiro hums. “Yes, I should think that a trollop like you would find that appealing. Perhaps we can bid the Lord Morvok return?”

Keith garbles something unintelligible, vehemently shaking her head whilst she chokes.

“No? What of Miss Holt or Mr Garret?”

Keith whines unpleasantly.

“Hmm…” Shiro gets a naughty look in both her eyes. “Then what about Kuron? I’ve seen the way you look at her,” she taunts. “At first I wasn’t sure it was me you wanted at all.”

Kuron cannot believe her ears. There they are in the throes of passion with Keith’s backside bouncing red and Shiro is mentioning _her._ And Keith…

Eyes flying wide, Keith pants, “I want… you… _Shiro.”_

Shiro bends down, nuzzling at Keith’s ear. “I know love.” She kisses her gently against her cheek and whispers, “But perhaps also Kuron?”

Keith moans as Shiro thrusts, her driving turned to slow and deep. Keith can hardly keep her eyes open. Shiro removes her wet, soaking fingers.

“Tell me,” she breathes, holding tight to Keith’s face.

“I—” Keith gasps, Shiro pushing to the hilt and grinding there. There’s nowhere for her to hide, no chance of concealing what’s present in her mind. Her legs around Shiro’s waist start to shake. “Yes,” she whispers.

Kuron’s jaw drops to the floor.

“Yes?” Shiro confirms.

Closing her eyes, Keith’s head rolls back. She licks her lips. “Yes, I want her too.”

Instead of looking upset, Shiro appears unseasonably pleased. She pets Keith’s hair against her back, drawing her up and into her arms.

“What do you think then, Kuron?” Shiro’s voice suddenly booms. She turns her gaze from Keith’s shocked face and looks directly at Kuron held frozen. Straight through the look through and into her wildest, darkest desires. “Would you like to join us?”

It feels a dream. It has to be. And yet Kuron knows it to be reality for her stomach squirms on the edge of excitement and terrible shame. Her chest about to explode with the way her heart tries to beat its escape. There's no help for it now, they both know she’s there. Body trembling, she opens the door, feeling as though she goes to her doom.

But when she appears in the doorway Keith stares at her with bedroom eyes. Possibly salivating, so shiny are her fresh licked lips. Shiro watches her too, with no small amount of gratified glee.

 _Turn around,_ Kuron’s proper education begs her. _Stop this._

She does not.

She moves without full consent, further into the room that reeks of deviancy. Now with her own degenerate scent mixing in. Her face is flushed and so very red that when Shiro looks at her as she comes to stand before them, her eyes turn soft and pitying.

“You poor dear. Having to watch us from there all alone.”

Keith, whose hips have not stopped once in their circling, whines, drawing both of their attention.

“Mistress, can I… touch her?” She looks to be trembling with the need of it.

This close, Kuron can see the marks the leather has left in her skin. Syrupy red lining each bold strap across her body. With no thought of consequence, Kuron reaches out, running her fingers along just the edge. Hard leather and soft skin assaulting her senses as she all but whimpers. When she looks back up Shiro’s grin is devilish.

“Well sister?” she says. “Shall we attempt to quiet this tart, needy thing?”

Bewitched is she. Her mouth forgotten how to speak but still her head nods. 

“Good. Come up to the top of the chaise,” Shiro says, gesturing to where the chair back rises. “And lift up your skirts.”

In one fluid motion, Shiro rises from her seat and takes Keith with her. Legs cinch and Keith yelps and then groans forlorn when Shiro’s cock slips from her cunt. Kuron hurries to comply so Keith won’t go without for long. Stiffly sitting with her back just touching and legs to the side like she were riding a horse and Shiro snorts, adjusting Keith so she crouches at the foot of the chaise on hands and knees.

“Your skirts,” Shiro reminds her.

Tentatively and with mind a flutter she starts to lift her skirts. Gathering the fabric in both of her hands until just her drawers and stockings show.

“Good,” Shiro says again and it brings a heat of the hottest kind to hear such praise from her sibling. “Now, lie back and spread your legs.”

Kuron flushes hotter still. One could say she’s on the edge, that there’s still time yet to turn away. Shiro would not blame her. Keith would understand. But Kuron knows she could not tear herself away from them now. Her decision to follow them into sin had been made the moment she left that sunroom.

Lying back, she does as bid and fells her legs as a branch splits into two. Her skirts are puffed around her person. Her legs still clad in cotton clothes, but the slit down the middle of her drawers is more than enough for the woman left waiting. Kuron’s sex drips before her, Keith on all fours and hungrily eyeing it with barely concealed anticipation. It oozes from the heavy air about her.

When Shiro says, “Go on pet. Taste her,” Keith lunges like a beast untamed.

What Kuron thought might be some petting and perhaps some kissing if she were lucky turns out to be not entirely wrong, though it’s not her lips that Keith goes for. At least not the ones around her mouth. Diving for her cunt, Keith latches on, sucking at her bud that’s filled with fire. If Kuron had sworn a day in her life now would be the time to do so. She thinks she feels god suckling at her altar, or at least something powerfully divine. Keith’s mouth is a riot of sound and sensation. Her tongue a devilish weapon of worship.

Kuron stifles a cry into her hand and fights not to grind into Keith’s slick face. There’s no way this can last for very long. Kuron’s not even sure how she’s made it thus far. It’s nothing she’s ever felt. Nothing she could’ve imagined. When Shiro moves behind Keith’s rear, presented high up in the air, she meets her eyes. Her roguish grin a subtle hint that Shiro knows exactly what Keith’s mouth can do.

Keith gorges herself on Kuron’s sex. Her tongue an alternate of licks and swirls as she parts her fingers into a V to keep Kuron’s folds spread wide. Kuron bites her knuckles and tries to hang on, her other hand tight like a fist at her side. When Keith moves lower and spears her tongue through Kuron’s entrance she has to grab that dark black hair. Just to see Keith’s blissful face so happily fucking Kuron to rapture.

It’s at this time that Shiro takes Keith.

From behind and powerful. A snap of her hips that has Keith crying into Kuron’s cunt where everything turns quick and sloppy. Shiro’s thrusts pushing Keith up in her lap. Her mouth rocking against Kuron’s clit without much work at all. Keith sucks and licks with less skill and more distraction, her body shaking with Shiro’s hard fucking. Her whines damp and swathed in slick but Shiro understands them best.

“No coming,” she says and smacks Keith’s bottom. The resulting moan vibrating down to Kuron’s toes. “Finish Kuron first, and then you may come.”

 _“Nngh,”_ Keith cries when Shiro hits thrice more. Swearing into folds that smear along her cheeks.

Whilst Kuron watches, she begins to think she wants this too, feeling an urge surge up inside and wanting to beg for Shiro to have her. Who better for one’s first time than the person they trust most in the world? She can imagine Shiro’s rippling form embracing her. The heft of her gorgeous and meaty buttocks grasped into both of her hands. It’s immorally forbidden and yet Kuron longs.

It ratchets up her sensitivity. Every filthy squelch of Shiro’s fucking and slurping mess of Keith’s lips stirring that heat in her regions higher. Keith’s almost as loud as she was before. Her face smashed into Kuron’s cunt and wailing out her impropriety.

“Kuron,” Shiro barks. “Quiet her.”

Not wanting to disobey, Kuron twists her hand still in Keith’s hair and pulls her down against her sex. Rubbing herself along Keith’s slack and parted lips and hardly giving space to breathe. It’s crude, but it works and brings Kuron up to the verge of breaking.

Shiro purrs her praise to both of them. The warmth of her tone and honeyed words bringing forth a sweet pleasured charge. For Shiro is more than just her sister, she’s a part of Kuron’s self. Her absence felt like a piece of her gone whenever they are separated. But with Keith between them, soft and fierce, Kuron begins to feel like she’s whole.

It’s that feeling that has her ascending. Has her grinding her cunt against Keith’s tongue and squirting juice down her open mouth. Her eyes roll back, her body shudders. Her hands twitch about Keith’s head and she comes and comes and comes some more.

And when she lands back down to Earth, Keith coos and kisses her trembling thighs, removing wet fingers Kuron hadn’t noticed were in there. Kuron has but a moment to meet her soft and gentle eyes and then Shiro’s hefting Keith up by the back of her harness.

She impales Keith back and onto her cock. Resting on her haunches and fucking savage. Her fingers plunge back down Keith’s throat and Keith’s arms flail in the space in front of her, her small body convulsing unchecked. Kuron goes to her like a moth to flame, catching her and holding her up. 

“You did so well love,” Shiro praises and for a moment Kuron’s not sure who she’s speaking to. “Do you want to come now?”

Keith practically sobs her affirmative around Shiro’s fingers.

Shiro draws back. “What was that?” 

“Yes, Mistress,” Keith croaks and Shiro gives a hard, punishing thrust. She whines and tries again. “Please, may I come.”

Keith can’t see Shiro's satisfied smile, but she can certainly feel the lick Shiro runs up the side of her neck. Her eyes flashing dangerous at Kuron who watches. “Alright then, come.”

As Shiro jams her fingers back, Keith sobs anew.

Kuron would suck at her slender neck if it weren’t for the collar, but strapped as she is, she contents herself with Keith’s small bosoms. Easy handfuls that jiggle with the breath expelling from Keith’s lungs. She twists Keith’s nipples as Shiro had done and a second later it doesn’t matter that two strong women are holding her up, Keith still falls apart spectacularly. One long shaking moan that just wails out of her.

Kuron nearly burns her hand when she reaches down to feel Keith pulse, fleshy folds so hot they’re like infernal flames. Kuron certainly feels their char. She holds Keith’s sex until she quiets and slumps like a marionette with strings just cut.

Collapsing forward, the whole of Keith’s weight hits her suddenly as Shiro releases the straps from her hold and Kuron is woefully unprepared. They both go crashing against the chaise but it’s large enough to hold their bulk. Keith giggles and burrows at Kuron’s shoulder, Shiro lying down to sandwich Keith between them.

The moment stumps her. Caught off guard at the simple way Keith sighs and sinks against her. Shiro on the other side with large warm hands that run the length of Keith’s bare arm. Kuron’s sweltering beneath her clothes with hair a mess and her drawers ruined but at present she couldn’t care less. She’s lying there with a sleepy Keith and sweaty Shiro and off the high of her greatest orgasm. Nothing could be wrong in all of the world.

When Shiro starts to wriggle, it furrows Kuron’s eyebrows until she realizes it’s the ivory phallus and mid section halter that she’s removing. And when she settles, she reaches out and cups Kuron’s shoulder not claimed occupied by Keith. Shiro doesn’t have to say what’s on her mind. So entwined are they that she hears her thoughts as if spoken aloud. _It could be like this, always._ She thinks she spies hope sparkling there in Shiro’s stark grey eyes, in the tentative curve of her lips.

And when put like that it’s not so hard to accept. It’s not difficult at all for Kuron to return the touch, arm slinging over Keith’s prone body to rest and squeeze at Shiro’s hip. _Yes,_ she thinks, _I would very much like that._

The answering smile of her dazzling sister is all the reply she needs.

They lie like that, three parts of a whole, Shiro brushing her fingers across Kuron’s back and Kuron unable to stop herself from kissing lightly over Keith’s forehead. The woman in her arms hums and turns, blinking up with sleepy eyes. She sees Kuron peering down and smiles soft, lifting her hand to cup her cheek.

“Kuron,” Keith whispers. Tender. Wondering.

And Kuron smiles back, warm and at peace.

Until Shiro asks, “When did the guests leave?” and Kuron all but falls off her side of the chaise.

“Our guests! But I’d forgotten!”

She must look ridiculous, for both Keith and Shiro laugh, though Kuron tries to fix her dress and do something useful with her hair.

“I would offer to help,” Shiro says, naked and watching her, “but I’m afraid someone must look after the poor Miss Kogane.” Kuron snorts and Shiro continues, “I’m really, dreadfully sorry.”

“Yes, you look it,” Kuron quips back, finding a mirror at the end of the parlour and doing as best as she can.

It’s not pretty and she’s been gone far too long for it to be ‘but a moment’ but it will have to do. She looks upon the women still lounged at their leisure and feels a moment of jealousy.

But then Keith reaches out. “Will you return?” The question is in her eyes. The uncertainty. 

Kuron goes to her side and grasps her hand. “Yes,” she says, “If you will have me.”

“We will,” Keith says and Shiro nods.

Shiro shifts up and onto her elbow, causing her strong and moistened thighs to rub, the softest _‘ha’_ falling from her lips. Kuron had forgotten that as well.

She looks at Shiro. “And what of you?”

On the chaise, Keith turns and nuzzles into Shiro’s chest, already mouthing at the healthy swells her face fits perfectly between.

Shiro quirks an eyebrow. “Are you offering sister?”

Instead Keith thrusts out her hand, which Shiro takes within her own and then begins to slide it down, slow and with control. When it reaches the apex of Shiro’s thighs, practically the whole of Keith’s hand slips inside.

Shiro sighs. “I shall be fine. Our pet has earned her treat, I think.”

Keith moans happily and kisses her way to one of Shiro’s dusky nipples.

Turning for the door, though there is suddenly nothing she’d rather do less, Kuron glances back as Shiro gasps and Keith begins to work her hand. Prosthetic fingers slide through darkened hair and hold Keith’s face against her bosom. Kuron hesitates but knows she must leave before her body betrays her once more. She closes the door to sounds of sloppy, frantic squelching rising over Shiro’s groan.

Two months later and Keith joins Shiro and Kuron as one of Yorkshire’s unattainable spinsters. Keith appears pleased when Mr McClain delivers the gossip, which comes as a relief. For the Shirogane sisters intend to keep her for many, many years to come.

**Author's Note:**

> Did I have way too much fun researching vintage sex toys and slang for genitalia? Perhaps.
> 
> Anyway if you enjoy this stuff too you should come talk to me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/shiverslightly)!


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